Turn The Page
by HippieHebe
Summary: He loved moments like these. The whole thing was electric and sexual. ONESHOT


**Author Note: **This is my first attempt at a Four Brothers fic and new to the fandom. So, I apologize if this has been done before.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own shit. The lyrics to Turn The Page belong to Bob Segar.

xXx

_Later in the evening, you lie awake in bed/  
__With the echoes of the amplifiers ringing in your head/  
You smoke the days last cigarette, remembering what she said/ What she said…_

"Fuck," Jack cursed, as blood filled his mouth. The girl put down the piercing gun and handed him a cup of water. Leaning over, he spat out the blood in the plastic cup, all the while staring at her. The girl rolled her eyes and set the cup aside.

"You might want to avoid; alcohol, spicy food and hot drinks," she spoke, in a monotone voice. "Eat slowly, you don't want to accidentally bite down on it-"

"No booze?" Jack frowned, noticing a slight lisp in his voice. Why the hell did he get the piercing? It wasn't like he had been planning it. It had been a random impulse, after an all-nighter, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a groupie … That damn groupie. She'd had one, with a tongue that had made him see stars.

Throwing a few dollar bills on the counter, he strode out of the parlour and onto the street. Thick grey clouds had rolled over the sky, bringing with them a sharp chill and a shower of sleet. Jack cursed, and flipped his collar as he walked the two blocks, to the motel where the band had crashed for the weekend. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a carton of cigarettes and lit one up. He cringed as the smoke stung his tongue.

Taking a drag he watched a skinny little kid, walking past with a older and uglier version of him. He grinned in spite of himself, remembering his brother Bobby. If it hadn't been for Bobby, Jeremiah and Angel he would have been spending a lot of days in stuffed in lockers and hospital beds.

"Oh my God!"

Jack turned his head, toward the gasp and squeak he had heard a one too many times. A pretty redhead, with huge breasts was grinning at him. Beneath her huge fur coat she wore practically nothing. He gave her a small smile.

"You're Jack Mercer!" She bounced. "From The Spares, right?"

"Yeah," Jack replied, taking another drag from his cigarette. "That's right."

"I'm Bonnie. I love you," she said, edging closer with a hungry look in her eyes. "I mean the band. You guys are awesome. I've been to all of your gigs and concerts."

"Really?" Jack knew where this was heading. He'd been down this road a dozen times before. A new city, new girl but it always had the same result.

xXx

Jack woke slowly, in a dense haze. He didn't want to wake, but as usual his body decided otherwise. He pried his eyes open and tilted his head toward the window. Neon lights spilt through the window and on to his bed. He pushed himself into a sitting position, bed sheets slipped off onto the floor exposing bare skin. Yawning, he reached to toward the bedside stand and fumbled for a carton of cigarettes.

"Fuck," he cursed, as pain shot through his mouth.

"You're awake." Bonnie's voice came from the bathroom door. Wearing his tee shirt, she climbed on to the bed and straddled his waist.

"What time is it?"

"Three," she said.

"In the morning?"

"Yep." Jack fought the urge to gag. Taking the cigarette from his hand, she said "Don't you have anything better?"

Leaning off the edge of the bed, he grabbed his jacket off the floor. Opening the breast pocket he fished out a little bag, with white powder inside. He waved it in front of her face, as her eyes lit up. Yeah, he figured she'd like that. Most of the girls did. Shit, they had been the ones who had got him into it. First it had started with marijuana, tried heroin once or twice but preferred cocaine out of everything. Only place he'd skipped classes, and it wasn't in school.

He watched her line up the coke on a compact mirror and roll up a dollar bill. Smiling, she held it out to him. Jack snorted it. He could barely feel it at first, he sat there waiting to feel something, anything … Heck, even numb. It hit him eventually, not as strongly as he thought it would, but it was something. With a smile, he closed his eyes and succumbed to the buzz, ignoring Bonnie's sniffing.

"Do you still want me?" He had barely heard her. He was pretty sure he hadn't answered, maybe he'd made a noise, because seconds later she was naked and riding him. Yeah, he'd be the envy of his brothers. He'd been with a lot of girls. A lot. He weren't no fairy.

"_Hey, fairy, quit daydreaming and pass me a wrench," Bobby said, sliding out from beneath his car. _

_Jack glared at his brother, wondering when he'd quit ragging on him. He never understood why people thought he was fag, ain't like he went around staring at junk or shit like that. No, he liked chicks, with big racks, pouty lips and little waists. Yeah … He weren't no fag. He'd only known one in his lifetime, and no way was he like that. No, he'd never do things like that. Never. _

"I ain't a fairy," Jack mumbled, sleepily.

"What was that?" Bonnie had asked, but he didn't even hear her.

"_No straight guy would wear a pink shirt, Jackie." _

_Jack stalked back into their house, ignoring Bobby's 'endearments', and into the kitchen. After seconds of pacing, he took off his shirt and threw it into the trash, he'd only bought it because their mom said it would look good on him. Lifting the lid to the laundry hamper, he pulled out a blue shirt - one of Bobby's. _

xXx

"What's with the shirt, Jack?" Mark asked. Jack pushed past his drummer, and threw his duffle bag into the bus.

"What about it?" Jack frowned.

"It's too big for you," he laughed.

"Fuck you," Jack cursed. Picking up his guitar, he climbed onto the bus, and flopped down on to the couch. The rest of the band and the manager piled onto the bus.

"Wasn't that redhead we saw leave in the morning enough?" Mark replied. "You got a big appitite, Mercer."

The band erupted into laughter as they pulled out of the parking space and back onto the road, Jack shook his head but said nothing. Garrett had already managed to settle in between his drums and Mark who was too busy laughing at him to say much and certainly nothing that he could decipher as English. Reaching back down into his pocket, he was glad to find that he still had some cigarettes left.

"Hey, pass me one of those," Mark said, making a grab for the carton. Jack pulled it out of his reach, and stuck out his tongue.

"Shit, you got our tongue pierced."

"Yeah, it hurts like hell," he said, sticking a finger his mouth and poking it. Taking his finger out he grinned. "The ladies will love it."

"I'm sure your Mom will think so too," Mark laughed.

"You'd be surprised at what my mother puts up with." Jack shook his head. After all, she did have a tattoo of her own.

"_What's that?" _

"_Uh nothing, Mom," Jack said, pulling down his sleeve a little further to cover the bandage on his arm. He wished he had worn a longer sleeved shirt. _

"_Don't try to hide it Jackie," his mother scolded. "I already saw it. Who hurt you?"_

"_Nobody hurt me," he said, dodging her and sticking his head in the fridge. He wasn't really hungry, but maybe this way he could distract her for a while. No, that would never work. Evelyn Mercer had always been stubborn. _

"_Don't bullshit me." Jack couldn't help but grin at his mother's use of language. "I promised when you came here, nobody would hurt you," Evelyn said. "Now tell me who did it, so I can go over and give the punks a piece of my mind."_

"_You got it wrong, Mom," he explained, and peeled the bandage off halfway to reveal his first tattoo. _

"_Oh, Jackie," Evelyn laughed. "You didn't have to hide that from me."_

"_I didn't?"_

"_No. I have one too, see?" She pulled down the collar of her sweater to reveal a rose tattoo. Jack couldn't help but grin. Evelyn Mercer never ceased to surprise him. _

Jack smiled, as he watched the scenery go past in a blur. He hadn't been to Detroit in a long time, and even then he'd only spent a week there. It had been one of the rare Thanksgiving's with Bobby around. He wondered how long it'd be till he saw his brothers again. Together.

xXx

Only three songs in and he was already panting. Strands of dark blond hair hung over his eyes, matted with sweat, as he played the note on his guitar. Jack had fans. Jack had a lot of fans. He winked, pouted, knowing it would send all the fan girls over the edge. He grinned, and screamed at crowd. With every second that passed, the more the crowd got worked up, the more they screamed his name. He loved moments like these. The whole thing was electric and sexual.

"You want more?" Jack yelled. The crowd broke out into a chorus of screams. Sticking out his tongue, he let them get a glimpse of the silver in the middle. The girls went mad. He wondered if he were human to them - if they knew how much it fucking hurt, and how much blood he had spat out.

After the fourth song the band took a break. Changing out of sweat drenched shirts, drinking as much water they could muster, and going through packs of cigarettes to ease their addiction. Yeah, life backstage was anything but fucking glamorous. The five minutes weren't even up before the crowd began to get rowdy.

"They can't get enough of us!" Mark laughed.

"They can't get enough of Jack's tongue," Garrett joked.

"You'd know all about that," Mark snorted, as Garrett tackled him. Jack shook his head. Just as he put his foot on stage, somebody grabbed his shoulder.

"You got a phone call, Mercer," his manager said.

"Tell them to call back, later." Jack rolled his eyes. It wasn't like their jackass manager to stop them at a gig for calls.

"It's an emergency-"

"If it's an emergency tell 'em to call 911." Nothing stopped him from doing a gig. He liked to play until the last minute, and even then he'd give the fans a little extra.

"It's from Detroit. Your mother's dead, Jack."

Of course, there were some exceptions.

"_I hope you don't wait till next Thanksgiving to visit again, Jackie."_

"_I won't, Mom. I won't."_

xXx


End file.
